MAN-MADE MONSTER // gentlestorm

// @GENTLESTORM

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting long, jagged shadows across the camp, only seeming to deepen the silence that blankets the sleeping clan. The cool night air does nothing to soothe Stormywing's nerves. It only sharpens her senses, her golden eyes flicking toward the medicine den as if drawn by an invisible thread. She can almost hear Wrathpaw's breath in the stillness, feel the pounding of his heart under her claws if she dared to get close enough.

Exile isn’t enough. Not for Pebblestep. Not for what Wrathpaw had taken from her. Her paws itch with the need for vengeance, a deep, gnawing hunger that no amount of justice can fill. What good was exile? It let him live, breathing the same air her brother no longer could. No, tonight would be different. Tonight, she would end him herself, and finish what she’d started. She creeps forward, manic tears stinging her eyes as she moves like a shadow, careful to avoid the moonlight. The camp is silent. Everyone trusts her, everyone believes she is still asleep. But sleep had become impossible. Her heart beats like a war drum in her chest, every pulse a reminder of what she’s about to do.

Wrathpaw would pay.

She reaches the mouth of the medicine den, her nervous breaths mounting. One pawstep inside the herb-scented den, then two - her claws slide out, their points gleaming in the dim light. He won’t see it coming. He doesn’t deserve to.

But before she can take another step, a soft voice breaks the silence, freezing her in place.
 
༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — The tomcat couldn't afford any sleep knowing that Wrathpaw sleeps within his den healing from his wounds and Flamestar had been gracious enough to spare the tom to even give him time to heal from his injuries instead of being kicked out immediately to risk infection. He made sure that the exile's nest was farthest from the nests of his other patients and away from the entrance of the den so he wouldn't slip away easily like the pathetic word he is, Gentlestorm having made a quick nest for himself near the resting murderer and the gray tom's tempted to try getting some sleep himself but he refuses. Darkthistle had torn whatever trust he had or comfort within his own den, the sound of silent pawsteps causes his entire body to tense up as his dark eyes catch the moonlight that slips through the foliage draped over his den as its parted by a tabbied figure.

The sight of claw tips glistening under the light of the moon causes him to tense even more and for a heartbeat, he completely forgets that Wrathpaw sleeps next to him as he takes in the sight of golden eyes staring in his general direction. It reminds him of the very same eyes that had belonged to Darkthistle and he can feel his snout beginning to wrinkle as a snarl tears itself from his throat, his fur bristles in every direction as he stares down at Stormywing like some wild thing. It takes him a heartbeat or two to settle down as he swallows another growl trying to ease his mind and remind himself that the dark tom had died and he isn't here to hurt him once more. Gentlestorm let's out a rough and shaky breath as his claws dig into the grass underneath his paws to steady himself completely and snaps his attention to the slumbering form of Wrathpaw then to Stormywing.

"W... why... are you... he... here?" The gray tom manages to speak despite how rough his voice sounds at the moment and he puts away his own claws then frowns at the young warrior, "Puh... put those... a... away..." It's an order that barely leaves much room for argument, the silvery tom rises from his nest sparing one last glance towards the slumbering forms of his clanmates and attempts to use his large body to herd Stormywing out from his den. A quiet way of telling her to get out and not wanting to disrupt the sleep of those in his den, his eyes narrowing as he waits for the blue tabby to give him an explanation of why she was inside of his den but he could make a small guess though he didn't want to rush to assumptions.


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  • ooc
  • MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
    ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
    ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
  • fglpSzG.png
    a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
    gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
    60 moons old; ages the 27th every month
    widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
    semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
 

For a moment, Stormywing's heart pounds so loudly in her ears she swears it could wake the whole camp. Her claws, still unsheathed, tremble as she locks eyes with Gentlestorm. The raw, almost feral intensity in his gaze makes her freeze, just for a heartbeat. She hadn't expected anyone to be awake, let alone the medicine cat himself. His snarling demand snaps her out of her single-minded focus, and her breath catches in her throat as she takes a half-step back, feeling cornered and exposed.

Put those away.

The words are sharp and commanding, leaving little room for the anger raging inside her. But still, her claws remain unsheathed, hovering in the air between restraint and an impulse she can't shake. Wrathpaw's sleeping form is right there. So close. The moonlight casting across his resting body feels like mockery. If she just lunged, if she moved before Gentlestorm could react, it would be over.

But Gentlestorm's large frame blocks her path, and his sharp eyes watch her expectantly.

The small tabby grits her teeth, her muscles tensing. She knows she should back down, that she should listen to him, but every fiber of her being screams to act, to make that tom pay for what he's done. Her voice comes out in a hoarse, almost broken whisper, "He doesn't deserve to live." The venom in her words contrasts with the tremor in her chest, the tears that have yet to fall but sting her eyes nonetheless. She swallows hard, fighting back the wave of grief and rage clawing at her throat. "My brother… he's dead because of him."

Her eyes flicker from Wrathpaw's body to Gentlestorm's stern expression, a silent plea lingering beneath the anger. She knows the tom is loyal to his duties as a medicine cat, but how could anyone think that Wrathpaw deserves to sleep peacefully while Pebblestep's body lies cold in the ground?
 
༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — tw for mentions of death, mild gore, and maggots

"He doesn't deserve to live." She tells him and Gentlestorm wants to snort at her words, he keeps his posture straight as he looms over the molly with a frown still present on his maw. Stormywing tells him that her brother is dead due to Wrathpaw but many have suffered the same fate from those paws and it makes the old tom realize that it may have been the blue tabby that had stolen away his ability to see. A growl rumbles from his throat as his lips peel back into a silent snarl as he mutters in a harsh tone "He doesn't deserve... to live... I want him dead... I wish... for... him... to writhe from... the poison... he swallows... to know only pain.. before he dies... " The large tom takes a step forward as the fur on his body begins to prickle in every direction and he continues with his pupils narrowed into dangerous slits, "I want... Starclan... to strike him down... where he stands... I want him to die... brutally... just as Skyclaw... and Darkthistle... I want... his filth gone from my den... for him... to rot... from the inside... that... it eats him alive... from within... so much rot... that even... the crows or maggots... do not... wish for... the taste... of... his flesh and blood... he killed my dear friend... and for it... he doesn't deserve... to live... or... the redemption... nor forgiveness... of... Starclan... as he will... never... recieve... my... forgiveness... or mercy... again..."

His jaws snap shut as teeth click together and he takes a shaky breath as he admits his true feelings despite his duty as a medicine cat and he licks his lips trying to ignore the way that his mouth feels dry. His breathing feels ragged for a heartbeat and he swallows once more only to speak with his snout still wrinkled from the silent snarl and the frustration that eats away at him. "He only lives... due to the mercy... of Flamestar... and Orangepaw... if it were up to me... a deathberry... would've been... his... last meal..." If it were not my own claws. Gentlestorm thinks bitterly as his eyes focus onto Stormywing once more and notes the way her eyes seem teary, how her voice seems close to breaking, and the way she refuses to unsheathe her claws with the intent of putting an end to Wrathpaw's life. "Could you... handle that... weight? ... The death... of someone... on your paws...? The hot... stickiness... of their... blood? And... no matter... how many times... you wash... your fur... you see that... same red... over... and over... again... as if you... never even tried... to clean it...? ... and... whenever you close... your eyes... you see... death glazed... in their own... and their last... face... contorted... with terror... could you handle... such a thing...?" The silvery tom lips twitch slightly as he continues to block the sight of Wrathpaw's resting form away from the tabby as his dark eyes watch her carefully and cautiously, she would not slip pass him to deal the killing blow.

"... It's easy... to say... I want... to be... his end... but when... it's done and over with... it weighs... heavily... on you... it eats... your mind... am... I better... or worse than... him?" His large paws shuffle and he steps back at last to expose Wrathpaw completely to the young warrior and he loses all the tension in his muscles as he watches to see what she might do next. To be someone's grim reaper is easier said then done, he can still remember the way he saw death glazed in the eyes of Darkthistle after he had eaten the deathberries and it haunts Gentlestorm to be the cause of someone's death but... He's accepted it and if the fates tested him leading into a similar situation again, he would kill without hesitation. "Go on... make your choice..." A wave of his scruffy paw in the direction of a kin and friend killer, one of Skyclaw's favored peers that he got named after the black tabby that he had killed, his heart aches at the memory. How would Howlingstar react to how he's handling this situation? He only lingers on the thought for a few heartbeats as his eyes focus onto the golden ones that belonged to Stormywing, if the molly did decide to make a dash for Wrathpaw then Gentlestorm would stop her... or perhaps, he would react too slow and something unfortunate would occur tonight.

His eyes narrow as he waits with bated breath wondering what Stormywing would decide or do now that she had been given the chance, the silver tom can't help but dig his own claws into the soil underneath them as he tries not to pluck at blades of grass. "Stormywing..." He rumbles without much emotion in his hoarse voice and he blinks his eyes at her, his whiskers twitching as his fur begins to lay flat on his large body. Will you be a killer tonight or bid me goodnight? Gentlestorm thinks silently waiting to see the twitch of her muscles or for her to take a step back entirely to retreat, he silently hopes that she doesn't make him regret this... whether it be her walking away or killing Wrathpaw.


fmo1ZTV.png

  • ooc
  • MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
    ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
    ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
    ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
  • fglpSzG.png
    a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
    gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
    60 moons old; ages the 27th every month
    widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
    semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
 

Stormywing's breath comes in short, ragged bursts as she listens to Gentlestorm. His words cut through her anger like claws through fur, each venomous truth tightening the knot in her chest. She watches him, wide-eyed, as he bares his soul - his bitterness, his hatred for Wrathpaw, a mirror of her own. For a moment, it startles her, the cold rage coiled inside the medicine cat, so close to what she feels. She feels her grief tenfold. She wants to scream, to tell him he doesn't understand, but the truth is in his narrowed eyes. He does understand. Far too well. The way his lips twitch, the way his voice breaks - it's the pain of a cat who has already walked the path she is about to take.

Her gaze falls to Wrathpaw, so close to her. She could end this now. With one lunge, her claws could tear into him, and the nightmare that has haunted her since Pebblestep's death would finally have closure. But Gentlestorm's words echo in her mind.

Could you handle that weight?

Her white paws tremble. She knows the answer. No matter how much she wants this, no matter how strong the urge to make Wrathpaw suffer, something inside her recoils. Would killing him make her feel better? Would it bring Pebblestep back? The image of her brother's lifeless form flashes before her eyes, and she bites back a sob, her legs weakening.

Her claws retract slowly, one by one, scraping the dirt before hiding within their sheathes. "I thought...I thought it would make the pain stop,” She whispers, and the tears she's been holding back finally spill over, sliding down her face. She doesn't try to hide them anymore. But Gentlestorm is right. It would haunt her. Stormywing swallows, her throat tight with grief and frustration. It takes every ounce of strength she has left to step back, to pull away from the precipice of murder. She stares down at Wrathpaw, her chest heaving with mourning, but no longer with the drive to end his life. She turns her gaze to the medicine cat, her eyes round with realization. "I can't do it. I can't be like him." With one final, shaky breath, the warrior takes another step back, turning away from the apprentice’s sleeping form. She doesn't look at the large silver tom as she leaves the den, her paws heavy with shame for what she had been about to do.

For tonight, vengeance would not claim her.